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Pilgrim's Progress
Money-love
Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love said
to Mr. By-ends, Who are they upon the road before us? (for Christian and Hopeful
were yet within view).
By-ends. They are a couple of far countrymen, that, after their mode, are
going on pilgrimage.
Money-love. Alas! Why did they not stay, that we might have had their
good company? for they, and we, and you, Sir, I hope, are all going on
pilgrimage.
By-ends. We are so, indeed; but the men before us are so rigid, and love
so much their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of
others, that let a man be never so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all
things, they thrust him quite out of their company.
Save-all. That is bad, but we read of some that are righteous overmuch;
and such men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn all but
themselves. But, I pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein you
differed?
By-ends. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it is
duty to rush on their journey all weathers; and I am for waiting for wind and
tide. They are for hazarding all for God at a clap; and I am for taking all
advantages to secure my life and estate. They are for holding their notions,
though all other men are against them; but I am for religion in what, and so
far as the times, and my safety, will bear it. They are for religion when in
rags and contempt; but I am for him when he walks in his golden slippers, in
the sunshine, and with applause.
Mr. Hold-the-world. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends; for,
for my part, I can count him but a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what
he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as serpents; it is
best to make hay when the sun shines; you see how the bee lieth still all
winter, and bestirs her only when she can have profit with pleasure. God sends
sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine; if they be such fools to go through
the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather along with us. For my
part, I like that religion best that will stand with the security of God's
good blessings unto us; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason,
since God has bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that he would
have us keep them for his sake? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion. And
Job says, that a good man shall lay up gold as dust. But he must not be such
as the men before us, if they be As you have described them.
Mr. Save-all. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and
therefore there needs no more words about it.
Mr. Money-love. No, there needs no more words about this matter, indeed;
for he that believes neither Scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on
our side) neither knows his own liberty, nor seeks his own safety.
Mr. By-ends. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage;
and, for our better diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to
propound unto you this question: -- Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman,
&c., should have an advantage lie before him, to get the good blessings of
this life, yet so as that he can by no means come by them except, in
appearance at least, he becomes extraordinarily zealous in some points of
religion that he meddled not with before, may he not use these means to attain
his end, and yet be a right honest man?
Mr. Money-love. I see the bottom of your question; and, with these
gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavour to shape you an answer. And first, to
speak to your question as it concerns a minister himself: Suppose a minister,
a worthy man, possessed but of a very small benefice, and has in his eye a
greater, more fat, and plump by far; he has also now an opportunity of getting
of it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching more frequently and
zealously, and, because the temper of the people requires it, by altering of
some of his principles; for my part, I see no reason but a man may do this,
(provided he has a call,) ay, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an
honest man. For why --
1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful, (this cannot be
contradicted,) since it is set before him by Providence; so then, he may get
it, if he can, making no question for conscience' sake.
2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a
more zealous preacher, &c., and so makes him a better man; yea, makes him
better improve his parts, which is according to the mind of God.
3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people, by
dissenting, to serve them, some of his principles, this argueth -- (1.) That
he is of a self-denying, temper; (2.) Of a sweet and winning deportment; and
so (3.) More fit for the ministerial function.
4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a small for a great,
should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous; but rather, since he has
improved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues his
call, and the opportunity put into his hands to do good.
And now to the second part of the question, which concerns the tradesman you
mentioned. Suppose such a one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by
becoming religious, he may mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and
far better customers to his shop; for my part, I see no reason but that this may
be lawfully done. For why --
1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man becomes so.
2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my shop.
3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets that which is
good, of them that are good, by becoming good himself; so then here is a good
wife, and good customers, and good gain, and all these by becoming religious,
which is good; therefore, to become religious, to get all these, is a good and
profitable design.
This answer, thus made by this Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends's question, was
highly applauded by them all; wherefore they concluded upon the whole, that it
was most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they thought, no man was
able to contradict it, and because Christian and Hopeful were yet within call,
they jointly agreed to assault them with the question as soon as they overtook
them; and the rather because they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called
after them, and they stopped, and stood still till they came up to them; but
they concluded, as they went, that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world,
should propound the question to them, because, as they supposed, their answer to
him would be without the remainder of that heat that was kindled betwixt Mr.
By-ends and them, at their parting a little before.
So they came up to each other, and after a short salutation, Mr.
Hold-the-world propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, and bid them
to answer it if they could.
Chr. Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may answer ten thousand
such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves, (as it is
in the sixth of John,) how much more abominable is it to make of him and
religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy the world! Nor do we find any other
than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and witches, that are of this opinion.
1. Heathens; for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter and cattle
of Jacob, and saw that there was no way for them to come at them, but by
becoming circumcised, they say to their companions, If every male of us be
circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not their cattle, and their
substance, and every beast of theirs, be ours? Their daughter and their cattle
were that which they sought to obtain, and their religion the stalking-horse
they made use of to come at them. Read the whole story, Gen. xxxiv. 20-23.
2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this religion; long prayers were
their pretence, but to get widows' houses was their intent; and greater
damnation was from God their judgment.
3. Judas the devil was also of this religion; he was religious for the bag,
that he might be possessed of what was therein; but he was lost, cast away, and
the very son of perdition.
4. Simon the witch was of this religion too; for he would have had the Holy
Ghost, that he might have got money therewith; and his sentence from Peter's
mouth was according.
5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that takes up religion
for the world, will throw away religion for the world; for so surely as Judas
resigned the world in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell religion
and his Master for the same. To answer the question, therefore, affirmatively,
as I perceive you have done, and to accept of, as authentic, such answer, is
both heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish; and your reward will be according
to your works. Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not wherewith
to answer Christian. Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Christian's
answer; so there was a great silence among them. Mr. By-ends and his company
also staggered and kept behind, that Christian and Hopeful might outgo them.
Then said Christian to his fellow, If these men cannot stand before the sentence
of men, what will they do with the sentence of God? And if they are mute when
dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they do when they shall be rebuked by
the flames of a devouring fire?
Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came to a
delicate plain called Ease, where they went with much content; but that plain
was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the further side of
that plain was a little hill called Lucre, and in that hill a silver mine, which
some of them that had formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had
turned aside to see; but going too near the brink of the pit, the ground being
deceitful under them, broke, and they were slain; some also had been maimed
there, and could not, to their dying day, be their own men again.
Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, over against the silver
mine, stood Demas (gentlemanlike) to call to passengers to come and see; who
said to Christian and his fellow, Ho! turn aside hither, and I will shew you a
thing.
Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it?
Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure. If
you will come, with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves.
Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see.
Chr. Not I, said Christian, I have heard of this place before now; and
how many have there been slain; and besides that, treasure is a snare to those
that seek it; for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. Then Christian called
to Demas, saying, Is not the place dangerous? Hath it not hindered many in
their pilgrimage?
Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that are careless, (but
withal he blushed as he spake).
Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a step, but still
keep on our way.
Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the same
invitation as we, he will turn in thither to see.
Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way, and a
hundred to one but he dies there.
Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you not come over and
see?
Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, thou art an enemy
to the right ways of the Lord of this way, and hast been already condemned for
thine own turning aside, by one of His Majesty's judges; and why seekest thou
to bring us into the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our
Lord and King will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame,
where we would stand with boldness before him.
Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fraternity; and that if
they would tarry a little, he also himself would walk with them.
Chr. Then said Christian, What is thy name? Is it not the same by the
which I have called thee?
Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham.
Chr. I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your
father; and you have trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that thou
usest; thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better
reward. Assure thyself, that when we come to the King, we will do him word of
this thy behaviour. Thus they went their way.
By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight, and
they, at the first beck, went over to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit
by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or whether
they were smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these
things I am not certain; but this I observed, that they never were seen again in
the way. Then sang Christian --
By-ends and silver Demas both agree;
One calls, the other runs, that he may be
A sharer in his lucre; so these do
Take up in this world, and no further go.
Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, the pilgrims came to a
place where stood an old monument, hard by the highway side, at the sight of
which they were both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof;
for it seemed to them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a
pillar; here, therefore they stood looking, and looking upon it, but could not
for a time tell what they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied written
above the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand; but he being no scholar,
called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick out the
meaning; so he came, and after a little laying of letters together, he found the
same to be this, Remember Lot's Wife. So he read it to his fellow; after which
they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife was
turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart, when she was going from
Sodom for safety. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion of this
discourse.
Chr. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight; it came opportunely to us
after the invitation which Demas gave us to come over to view the Hill Lucre;
and had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclining to do, my
brother, we had, for aught I know, been made ourselves like this woman, a
spectacle for those that shall come after to behold.
Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am
not now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and
mine? She only looked back; and I had a desire to go see. Let grace be adored,
and let me be ashamed that ever such a thing should be in mine heart.
Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for time to
come. This woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of
Sodom; yet she was destroyed by another, as we see she is turned into a pillar
of salt.
Hope. True; and she may be to us both caution and example; caution, that
we should shun her sin; or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall
not be prevented by this caution; so Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two
hundred and fifty men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or
example to others to beware. But above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how
Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that
treasure, which this woman, but for looking behind her after, (for we read not
that she stepped one foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt;
especially since the judgment which overtook her did make her an example,
within sight of where they are; for they cannot choose but see her, did they
but lift up their eyes.
Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their hearts
are grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them to so
fitly, as to them that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will
cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the men of Sodom, that they were
sinners exceedingly, because they were sinners before the Lord, that is, in
his eyesight, and notwithstanding the kindnesses that he had shewed them; for
the land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden heretofore. This, therefore,
provoked him the more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the fire of
the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it is most rationally to be
concluded, that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight,
yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually before
them, to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest
judgments.
Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it that
neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example! This
ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him, and always to
remember Lot's wife.
I saw, then, that they went on their way to a pleasant river; which David the
king called the river of God, but John, the river of the water of life. Now
their way lay just upon the bank of the river; here, therefore, Christian and
his companion walked with great delight; they drank also of the water of the
river, which was pleasant, and enlivening to their weary spirits; besides, on
the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees, that bore all manner
of fruit; and the leaves of the trees were good for medicine; with the fruit of
these trees they were also much delighted; and the leaves they eat to prevent
surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to those that heat their blood by
travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified
with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down,
and slept; for here they might lie down safely. When they awoke, they gathered
again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and
then lay down again to sleep.Thus they did several days and nights. Then they
sang --
Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide,
To comfort pilgrims by the highway side;
The meadows green, beside their fragrant smell,
Yield dainties for them; and he that can tell
What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield,
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field.
So when they were disposed to go on, (for they were not, as yet, at their
journey's end,) they ate and drank, and departed.
Now, I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far, but the river and
the way for a time parted; at which they were not a little sorry; yet they durst
not go out of the way. Now the way from the river was rough, and their feet
tender, by reason of their travels; so the souls of the pilgrims were much
discouraged because of the way. Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished
for better way. Now, a little before them, there was on the left hand of the
road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called By-path
Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along by our
wayside, let us go over into it. Then he went to the stile to see, and behold, a
path lay along by the way, on the other side of the fence. It is according to my
wish, said Christian. Here is the easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us
go over.
Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of the way?
Chr. That is not like, said the other. Look, doth it not go along by the
wayside? So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the
stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it
very easy for their feet; and withal, they, looking before them, espied a man
walking as they did, (and his name was Vain-confidence;) so they called after
him, and asked him whither that way led. He said, To the Celestial Gate. Look,
said Christian, did not I tell you so? By this you may see we are right. So
they followed, and he went before them. But, behold, the night came on, and it
grew very dark; so that they that were behind lost the sight of him that went
before.
He, therefore, that went before, (Vain-confidence by name,) not seeing the
way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose there made, by the
Prince of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and was dashed in
pieces with his fall.
Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know the
matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning. Then said
Hopeful, Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he
had led him out of the way; and now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten
in a very dreadful manner; and the water rose amain.
Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh, that I had kept on my way!
Chr. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the
way?
Hope. I was afraid on it at the very first, and therefore gave you that
gentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you are older than I.
Chr. Good brother, be not offended; I am sorry I have brought thee out
of the way, and that I have put thee into such imminent danger; pray, my
brother, forgive me; I did not do it of an evil intent.
Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee; and believe, too,
that this shall be for our good.
Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; but we must not stand
thus: let us try to go back again.
Hope. But, good brother, let me go before.
Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there be any danger, I
may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone out of the way.
Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first; for your mind being
troubled may lead you out of the way again. Then, for their encouragement,
they heard the voice of one saying, Set thine heart toward the highway, even
the way which thou wentest; turn again. But by this time the waters were
greatly risen, by reason of which the way of going back was very dangerous.
(Then I thought that it is easier going out of the way, when we are in, than
going in when we are out.) Yet they adventured to go back, but it was so dark,
and the flood was so high, that in their going back they had like to have been
drowned nine or ten times.
Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile that
night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down there
until the daybreak; but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now there was, not far
from the place where they lay, a castle called Doubting Castle, the owner
whereof was Giant Despair; and it was in his grounds they now were sleeping:
wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down in his
fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then, with a grim
and surly voice, he bid them awake; and asked them whence they were, and what
they did in his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had
lost their way. Then said the Giant, You have this night trespassed on me, by
trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me.
So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also had but
little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The Giant, therefore, drove
them before him, and put them into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty
and stinking to the spirits of these two men. Here, then, they lay from
Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without one bit of bread, or drop of
drink, or light, or any to ask how they did; they were, therefore, here in evil
case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. Now in this place Christian
had double sorrow, because it was through his unadvised counsel that they were
brought into this distress.
The pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh,
Will seek its ease; but oh! how they afresh
Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into!
Who seek to please the flesh, themselves undo.
Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So when he was
gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done; to wit, that he had taken a
couple of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon, for trespassing on his
grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best to do further to them. So she
asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound; and he
told her. Then she counselled him that when he arose in the morning he should
beat them without any mercy. So, when he arose, he getteth him a grievous
crab-tree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls
to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of
distaste. Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that
they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This
done, he withdraws and leaves them there to condole their misery and to mourn
under their distress. So all that day they spent the time in nothing but sighs
and bitter lamentations. The next night, she, talking with her husband about
them further, and understanding they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel
them to make away themselves. So when morning was come, he goes to them in a
surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes
that he had given them the day before, he told them, that since they were never
like to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an end
of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison, for why, said he, should
you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much bitterness? But they desired
him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and, rushing to them,
had doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his
fits, (for he sometimes, in sunshiny weather, fell into fits,) and lost for a
time the use of his hand; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before, to
consider what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves whether
it was best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse: --
Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that we now live
is miserable. For my part I know not whether is best, to live thus, or to die
out of hand. My soul chooseth strangling rather than life, and the grave is
more easy for me than this dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the Giant?
Hope. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far
more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide; but yet, let us consider, the
Lord of the country to which we are going hath said, Thou shalt do no murder:
no, not to another man's person; much more, then, are we forbidden to take his
counsel to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can but commit
murder upon his body; but for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul at
once. And, moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast
thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain the murderers go? For no murderer
hath eternal life, &c. And let us consider, again, that all the law is not
in the hand of Giant Despair. Others, so far as I can understand, have been
taken by him, as well as we; and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows,
but the God that made the world may cause that Giant Despair may die? or that,
at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in? or that he may, in a short
time, have another of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs?
and if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved to
pluck up the heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand.
I was a fool that I did not try to do it before; but, however, my brother, let
us be patient, and endure a while. The time may come that may give us a happy
release; but let us not be our own murderers. With these words Hopeful at
present did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together (in
the dark) that day, in their sad and doleful condition.
Well, towards evening, the Giant goes down into the dungeon again, to see if
his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there he found them alive;
and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of bread and water, and by
reason of the wounds they received when he beat them, they could do little but
breathe. But, I say, he found them alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage,
and told them that, seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse
with them than if they had never been born.
At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a swoon;
but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the
Giant's counsel; and whether yet they had best to take it or no. Now Christian
again seemed to be for doing it, but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth:
--
Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been
heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear,
or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardship, terror,
and amazement hast thou already gone through! And art thou now nothing but
fear! Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by
nature than thou art; also, this Giant has wounded me as well as thee, and
hath also cut off the bread and water from my mouth; and with thee I mourn
without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience; remember how
thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain,
nor cage, nor yet of bloody death. Wherefore let us (at least to avoid the
shame, that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as
well as we can.
Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his wife being in bed, she
asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel. To which
he replied, They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather to bear all hardship,
than to make away themselves. Then said she, Take them into the castle-yard
to-morrow, and shew them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already
despatched, and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt
tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.
So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and takes them
into the castle-yard, and shews them, as his wife had bidden him. These, said
he, were pilgrims as you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, as you
have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces, and so, within ten
days, I will do you. Go, get you down to your den again; and with that he beat
them all the way thither. They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a
lamentable case, as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence
and her husband, the Giant, were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse
of their prisoners; and withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither by
his blows nor his counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied,
I fear, said she, that they live in hope that some will come to relieve them, or
that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape.
And sayest thou so, my dear? said the Giant; I will, therefore, search them in
the morning.
Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in
prayer till almost break of day.
Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake
out in this passionate speech: -- What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a
stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom,
called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.
Then said Hopeful, That is good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom,
and try.
Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon
door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back, and the door flew open with
ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door
that leads into the castle-yard, and, with his key, opened that door also.
After, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went
damnable hard, yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make
their escape with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that
it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his
limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means go
after them. Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe,
because they were out of his jurisdiction.
Now, when they were over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves
what they should do at that stile to prevent those that should come after from
falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a
pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence -- 'Over this stile
is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the
King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims.' Many,
therefore, that followed after read what was written, and escaped the danger.
This done, they sang as follows: --
Out of the way we went, and then we found
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground;
And let them that come after have a care,
Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare.
Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are,
Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair.
 
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